Communication Breakdown
by Engineered Strife
Summary: The reputation of Scotland Yard and Sherlock Holmes was greatly affected by his suicide and sudden return. A close friend of Lestrade's decides to help, but as the new neighbor of the consulting detective she becomes involved in cases more like she ever expected to be. - Sherlock/OC


After years of training she was used to talking for a long time but for some reason this situation was different. With university students filling the enormous room, their eyes following her as she paced back and forth in front of them, Harper simply couldn't wait for the class to end. Her throat and mouth were dry, almost burning while one sentence followed another, explaining the cruel and sometimes disgusting inner workings of the PR industry along with some disastrous communication mistakes from recent years. Sure she was passionate about her job, loving every moment of it, even if she was just about to leave the agency she half-owned behind for a while to give another field a try, but at times like this she began to question her sanity.

Why did she agree to keep this class in the first place?

Harper finished her latest train of thought and finally returned to her desk to take a few sips of water, welcoming the cooling effect of the liquid as she gulped. It was time to end the class but, instead of sharing this piece of information with the students, she decided to give them a little sneak peek of what was coming up next week. Originally she wanted to talk about something else but as far as she could tell, most students were bored out of their minds. She remembered her days in university and knew it was crucial to keep the class interesting so they would keep attending.

Taking a deep breath she stopped in the middle, exhaling slowly until she finally gathered her courage to say what she wanted. "For all of you who are still trying to decide whether or not to attend next week's class here's what to come for. Next time we're going to discuss one of my favorite cases: Jim Moriarty aka Rich Brook vs. Sherlock Holmes," Harper began, her eyes slowly sweeping through the students. "Several stories and versions can be heard and we still don't know for sure if Jim Moriarty was real or not. You know, every time I go through my file about that case - and yes, I do have such files, I strongly advise you lot to save every single article or video report you can find about a case that interests you."

A young man in front row quickly made some notes and the concentration on his face made her smile. It was amazing how he and some other students around the room wrote down snippets of what she said, even if these things were as trivial as these files of hers. They were just cases and keeping those files was a habit she picked up during those few years she wasted to pursue some stupid dream of becoming a lawyer. Studying communication simultaneously, though, turned out to be a good idea since it helped giving her the courage to speak in front of an audience, whether it was a client or the jury.

"So whenever I reread this particular file," she spoke up again after clearing her throat, "the only sentence I can think of is one of my favorite quotes: the finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist. What we do know, on the other hand, is what kind of negative effect it had on the reputation of Scotland Yard. Think about it," she said before stopping for a moment. "If they screw up _one_ case it might hurt them but most of the time it's not fatal. But this is entirely different. Sherlock Holmes supposedly helped them solve _several_ cases over the years and this begs the question: if it's true, can Scotland Yard really protect the residents?"

Students began murmuring among each other, sharing confused glances and one girl hurriedly went through the sheets of paper in front of her. Of course, this topic was something she had only come up with a couple of minutes ago but she hoped it would be interesting enough to make them attend her classes without some stupid blackmailing with extra difficult exams.

"Aren't you working for Scotland Yard, Ms. Bloom?"

Her smile disappeared as she searched the students to find the guy who had just asked her about this. "Yes, but only as a freelance advisor," she replied the moment her eyes fell on a boy on the right side of the second row. "How do you even know about that?"

"My mother works at London Metropolitan and she told me."

"Oh, okay. It's quite a recent decision to be honest. Even though I trust my professional abilities I'd rather not risk the reputation of my agency - and maybe my partner wouldn't want to be associated with our beloved police force either. Anyway, you lot need to learn that a little risk is necessary so you won't go crazy. Class dismissed, see you next week."

Just as she expected, students quickly closed their laptops and collected their belongings, some literally sprinting to the door moments after she announced the class was over. With a half-hearted smile, Harper returned to the desk, turning off the screen of her tablet and finishing the rest of her bottle of water. Soon after she turned it on, her phone buzzed, and once she unlocked the screen a text message from her assistant popped up, informing her about the cancelled and rescheduled meeting she was supposed to attend in the afternoon.

Silence fell on the room after the last student left, but it was almost instantly broken when the door closed behind her. For a few moments she didn't care about the footsteps, believing they belonged to one of the kids who left something near their seat, but the person stopped and their stillness made her turn around. Once her eyes fell on the man she shook her head with a wide smile, leaning her hip casually against the edge of the desk. He absentmindedly straightened his jacket as he returned the greeting and Harper wondered whether or not she should break the silence in case he decided to remain silent for longer than necessary.

"You said you will be talking about Moriarty and Sherlock yet you ended up bashing us," he finally spoke up, taking a few steps closer to her.

"I wasn't bashing you, Greg," she explained quietly, "I simply pointed out a fact."

The Detective Inspector's lips turned into a smug smirk as he looked around. "So you're going to teach?"

"Stop with this smirk, I'll only do it in this semester."

"Yes, that's almost exactly what you said about your ex-husband."

Harper punched his upper arm and shot an angry look at him. "That wasn't funny."

They began walking towards the door in order to leave the building, navigating through a larger group of students on the hallway who were taking a look at a piece of paper on the wall with the results of a recent exam. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the look on Greg's face and knew there was something he wanted to tell her, but probably didn't need an audience. It was okay with her, and she definitely didn't want to push him until they reached the parking lot where he left his car. His good mood was contagious and she couldn't stop smiling even though she had no particular reason to be happy. Once they reached his BMW they stopped and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Look, Harper, I'm sorry for what I said back there. But at least I have good news for you."

"Really?" she asked with a deep frown.

"Are you still looking for a new place?"

Nodding, she walked next to him and rested her back against the trunk, crossing her legs while she stared down at her shoes. "Of course I do, it's pretty hard to find a normal one," she mumbled quietly, hating how she couldn't find a new home for herself yet. She was over thirty and it was getting ridiculous but no matter where she moved it was always too empty, too cold for her liking. But maybe Greg had been right when he said she only felt this way because she was missing the home she shared with her ex-husband. He probably sensed she got lost in her thoughts since he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye with a reassuring smile on his face.

"I happen to know someone who might be able to help you with this little problem."

"Oh my God, where's the flat?" she asked excitedly.

"Baker Street."

"Wait a second, if you dare to say-"

"221?" he asked, interrupting her. "Sorry, but that's exactly what I was about to say. Mrs. Hudson is a very nice woman and one of the flats is empty." Without saying a word she shook her head and pushed his hands away in order to build a safe distance between them. "Harper, I know it's not exactly what you had in mind, but you're the one who wanted to know more about him so here you go, that's the perfect chance."

She let out a long sigh as she counted to ten in herself, trying to focus on calming down. "That guy is a maniac," she stated quietly.

Greg bit his lower lip and shrugged. "A high-functioning sociopath," he corrected her, the look on his face giving away that he almost immediately regretted saying it.

"Not you too," she growled.

"Like it or not, that's what he is. So are you interested or not?"

Long moments passed with her staring at him angrily as if he was responsible for her current situation. Greg was only trying to help her and she was perfectly aware of that but living in the same building with Sherlock Holmes seemed to be quite an extreme solution for her problem. But who knew? Maybe Greg was right and it wouldn't be that bad after all.

"Yes, I'm interested," Harper finally admitted. "When do you think I can go and take a look?"

"How about right now?" he asked, earning a questioning look from her. "Your phone was turned off so I called your office where your assistant told me you were here. Then she enlightened me about your cancelled meeting when I asked her about your schedule. Anyway, I've already called Mrs. Hudson and she said we can go whenever we want to. After that we could go and have a drink, too."

"Now _that_ would be great after today."

"Perfect, then get in."

She followed his lead and got into the passenger's seat, looking into the mirror while she pulled up her wavy light brown hair into a messy bun. The dark circles around her hazel eyes were the visible evidence of those long hours she had spent in her office lately, trying to make sure they would be able to do their jobs even while she was away. Regular calls from her colleagues about documents, contacts and with general 'what should I do' questions were highly unwanted in the following weeks or months. Who knew how long she would be away from the agency?

Greg on her left rolled his eyes but didn't say a word. He waited patiently until she buckled up then started the engine, leaving the parking lot way faster than it was allowed. After long years she knew him well enough to be aware of his annoyance that probably had something to do with her not telling him about keeping a class for an entire semester. He was right; it wasn't like this between them, they barely kept secrets from each other, especially not since she had successfully convinced him to finally fill the divorce papers because her sister was a real bitch.

It's strange how after her divorce it hadn't been her sister who comforted Harper but her ex brother-in-law, the man who turned out to be a better sibling than the actual one. She had to learn that blood meant absolutely nothing and ever since then she had barely talked to her big sister. '_You act as if you were so much better than me, but you're not_," she had told Harper after her divorce, spitting out these words like venom. But in her mind, as she later found out, it meant she considered her stupid for leaving someone so handsome, powerful and wealthy for being cheated on once.

Money and looks, plus the excitement of having a secret affair were more important than love for her. This is why she had cheated on Greg with that teacher and whoever they didn't know about.

And this is exactly why Harper had slapped her so hard her face remained red for several weeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, yes, a SherlockOC fanfiction, one of the hardest one to write. Since I have no idea if I should continue, I'll just rely on what you think. So?**


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